


The Runaway

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amused Aunt Figure Zelena, Child Abuse, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Mama Regina, Mentions of Death, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Regina owns a ranch, Reluctant Mother Figure Regina, Running Away, Teenager Emma, Underage Drinking, Young Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Blood seeped through her pajama's, blooming like a gruesome rose. Her foster father stood over her; broken beer bottle gripped tightly in his hands. She had to get out now.orEmma gets attacked by her foster father, so she runs away and ends up hiding out in Regina's barn.TRIGGER WARNING: CHILD ABUSE AND BLOOD
Relationships: Emma Swan & Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena, Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Emma Swan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143





	1. Stowaway

Blood seeped through Emma's pajama's, blooming and spreading like a gruesome rose. Her foster father stood over her; a broken gin bottle gripped tightly in his hands. Her throat tightened with panic and fear as she stumbled to her socked feet, nostrils filled with the coppery scent of blood and the pine-GermX stench of cheap gin. The creaky floorboards beneath her suddenly felt too unstable, as if they would give at any moment. The walls felt too close together, pushing her towards him. Paralyzing fear gave way to fight or flight, allowing her to sprint to her room. Anywhere really, if it meant getting away from _him_.

She heard the overweight man curse and stumble after her, "Come back here, sneaky bitch," he bellowed, shaking the already claustrophobic walls. Adrenaline spiked through her, leaving her hands shaky and her knees weak as she shoved a chair under the doorknob. He had broken the lock on the door the first week of her arrival two months prior. Emma grabbed her backpack, filled with clothes, and two bottles of beer just in case something like this happened. The pain in her side, feet, and nose thundered in time with her racing heart as she heard someone slam into the door, yelling for her to open the fuck up. She ignored his order and yanked the window open, then proceeded to leap through it and barrel across the lawn.

Emma's vision was blurry, and her bare legs shook beneath her, yet held steady enough for her to sprint down the gravel road. To her horror, she heard the familiar rumble of her foster father's truck coughing to life. The tempo of her heart and ringing in her ears seemed to be sufficient enough motivators as she flung her self toward's a tree and climbed it, concealing her self in the leaves. Slowly, the truck crept closer; it's headlights illuminating the trunk and lower branches. Emma's heart was in her throat as she heard her guardian's drunken slurs from inside the vehicle. Whether it was an act of God, which she doubted, or sheer force of will, the teen managed to stay entirely still as the car drove past. After waiting until the headlights were mere dots, Emma hopped down, collapsing under the weight of her fatigue and pain. She looked down at her oversized faded Coca-Cola shirt that was clinging to her body from the blood and sweat. There were also little cuts and on her legs and splotches of blood on her feet. Somehow the teenager was sure her face was a menagerie of blues, greens, and reds by now. 

Hauling herself to her feet felt like swimming to the surface of a lake with cinderblocks chained to your feet. With a grimace and a quiet 'fuck,' Emma turned down the road that led out of town. With each distant sound of a passing car, she found herself picking up the pace, run-limping through the wet grass. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the teenager saw the faint outline of the town sign, marking her exit. Only when she passed it and entered the rolling countryside did she stop running. With a huff, Emma yanked off her backpack and grabbed the room temperature beer from the frayed bag. Banging the top of the neck against a dead tree, the lid and lip of the bottle shattered off. Not giving enough of a shit to pick the glass and cap off the ground, Emma took a hardy swig and continued limping down the dirt road. Her body screamed with exhaustion and agony, and her socks were sufficiently soaked, yet she kept walking. 

The girl followed the road for an eternity until she saw the towering silhouette of a barn. The sky was already painted with the faintest glimpses of the morning as she stumbled into the barn and collapsed onto what she assumed was a haybale. The mixture of two bottles of cheap Bud Light and her under-fed body caused the girl to get drunker faster than she had intended. So, in a stupor, she fell asleep to the melody of horse stomps and cricket chirps. 

\--

Regina Mills rolled over in her bed, blindly pressing the button on her alarm clock that was currently blinking 5 AM. The woman sat up and trudged into her bathroom. After carrying out her morning routine, consisting of slipping into a sleeveless flannel shirt, jeans, and curling her hair, Regina idly sipped her coffee as she walked out to the barn. The sky was streaked with pinks, oranges, and yellows as the world slowly awoke. She had been in charge of Mill's Ranch for over three years, had been raised on it for eighteen, and somehow she still managed to resent mornings. The air was too cold, her coffee not nearly strong enough to ignore the early morning breeze. As she approached the huge barn, she noticed the lock and chain that kept it sealed shut, hanging loosely from the handle. 

"That's odd," Regina muttered, crouching down to inspect the lock. She had distinct memories of locking the barn up last night. The woman furrowed her brows and walked to her tool shed. From within the dusty building, she grabbed a metal bat, just in case. After sliding the door open, Regina crept in, weapon at the ready. After clicking on the lights, she immediately relaxed at the sight before her. In the far corner of the barn, lay a lanky teenaged blonde girl sprawled among the hay bales. Her face was covered in bruises, and her nose had a large gash across it. The teenager's stained shirt had risen to her hips at some point in the night, revealing her white cotton panties and her cut up legs. Regina's stomach churned at the sight of the wounded girl. Still, she wandered over to the girl, and after a few attempts of shaking her awake, Regina slammed her fist against the wall above the girl repeatedly.

The blonde lurched up, grabbing her head in pain, "What the fuck, lady?" She grunted in annoyance.

Regina looked down at the disgruntled teen and took in the two broken bottles strewn next to a half unzipped black backpack. "What the fuck yourself, Dear. You're on my property," she pointed out calmly.

"You didn't need to be so damn loud," she complained, attempting to stand before wincing and sitting back down. 

"I tried to wake you up more gently; however, you were as asleep as a corpse," Regina explained. "Now, will you tell me why I have a runaway in my barn?" 

The girl winced at the question before looking down at her lap, "I'm not a stowaway," she muttered. 

"Oh? Then why else would you be sleeping in a random barn that is 10 miles outside of town?" the brunette questioned. 

The blonde bit her lip hesitantly at the question before replying in a voice more question than a statement, "Camping trip?" 

Regina scowled and examined the battered girl before her, "Some trip," she commented. After grabbing the teen's backpack, along with the two bottles, she extended a hand to the girl. The younger woman flinched as the hand was stretched towards her, which Regina dutifully noted for later. Finally, she accepted the brunette's help and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

\--

Emma found her legs were still unsteady and in pain from earlier that morning, so she immediately leaned against the wall of the barn. Her heart had since calmed from being loudly awoken by the woman; however, the dull thud in her skull had not. Apparently, her drastically reduced diet had made her more susceptible to alcohol, and it's after-effects. 

"Do you need help standing?" the rancher asked, noticing her discomfort. 

Emma eyed her carefully before settling on the metal bat that now lay on the ground beside her, "No I got it," she grunted before pushing off against the wall. The woman eyed her suspiciously but didn't comment on the blatant lie.

"So, if you're going to be sleeping in my barn often, I might as well know your name," she mentioned, walking towards the entrance at a slow pace. 

"Emma Swan," she replied, limping beside her. 

The older woman hummed in response, "Regina Mills," she offered in turn. 

The two walked in silence for a few minutes while Emma took in the scenery. It was a beautiful area, fields of flowers and tall grass rolled in the morning breeze just across the road, and two large buildings sat behind the barn. One probably held the other animals, and the other was a giant ranch house. "Holy shit," she muttered. "That's a big house."

Regina chuckled, "I suppose it _is_ bigger than most ranch-style houses," she agreed. "My parents owned several farms and ranches around the country, so they were quite well off." Emma hummed in response before climbing up the porch steps of the sprawling house. The rancher opened the door for her, looking at her expectantly. Again, Emma hesitated. What was she doing, going to a random house with a stranger she met ten minutes ago? Regina could do anything to her, assault her, call the cops, _kill her._ Lord knows she wouldn't have the strength to fight her off. 

"You don't need to worry about whether I will do anything. If I wanted to attack you, I would have when I had the bat," the woman pointed out, sensing her doubt. 

"Sorry, I appreciate your surprising amount of kindness toward me," she assured, "I'm just not used to people being this... tolerant towards me," she clarified. 

Regina chuckled and followed her into the house, "Trust me, compared to what I have found in my barn before, I'm relieved it's just you."

"What do you normally find?" Enna questioned, glancing back at the owner of the house. 

"Once I accidentally left the barn doors open and came back the next morning to find a family of 10 raccoons harassing my horses," she recalled, "I had to grab my bat and chase them out in my nightgown." 

Emma chuckled at the image, "why not use a rifle to run them out?" 

"Unlike the other rednecks in this area, I do not condone owning guns," she explained, "They are more trouble than they are worth."

Emma thought back to the first day she had been with her current foster parent. He had pulled his shotgun off the wall and had pointed it at her saying, "If you ever act up, you'll be eating bullets before you can even think 'bout apologizing." She shuddered at the memory and nodded her agreement. Letting the memory fall from her mind, she glanced around the living room; it was surprisingly modern considering the woman's profession. The immaculate black sofa stretched across the living-room in an l shape, and resting on the black mantle of the white brick fireplace was a huge flatscreen television. The woman leads her over to the couch, gesturing for her to sit. Emma followed the woman's instructions, albeit resting on the very edge of the cushion as if afraid she would dirty it just by sitting on it. 

"Now wait here, I need to get a few things," she ordered, before sauntering off. Emma scrubbed her face with her hands, how was she going to explain her appearance to this lady? She was sure there were dead bodies less battered than her. Not only that, but her foster dad was going to murder her when he finds her. She gnawed at her lip at the thought. He had been pissed last night, the man's face had practically turned purple with rage. She hadn't meant to make him angry; she had just panicked. He had gotten too close too fast, Emma gulped and shoved her fear down. The teen's hands turned clammy at the memories of his rough touch, yanking her towards him. The man's hands drifting too low had triggered these fucked up chain of events. Groping and grasping-

"Alright, I got the first-aid kit," Regina said, walking around the glass coffee table to kneel in front of the girl. Emma jumped in surprise at the woman who had so suddenly yanked her from her thoughts. 

"Oh, you don't have to do this," Emma insisted as Regina opened the first aid kit. 

"In all respect, Miss Swan, I think I do," she argued, "you look horrible, and considering the fact I did not see a car or bike outside the barn, I assume you walked her. And, given your current state, I don't think you have the strength to walk back." Regina took out a small of disinfectant and poured it on a rag. 

"This will probably hurt a lot," she warned. Emma nodded and bit her lip as the woman dabbed the rag over the cuts on her legs and nose. 

"Mother fucker," she cursed, hand flying to her nose at the stinging pain.

"I would refrain from touching it considering you were just laying in a dirty barn," the older woman advised. Emma grumbled but lowered her hand. "Good, now if you don't mind, I need to see the wound under your shirt as well."

Emma tensed at the request, "I'm fine," she choked out. 

Regina's eyes softened at the girl's fear, "I have to see the extent of the damage, Dear," she said softly. "I promise it will be brief." 

Emma hesitated before looking at the woman in her warm caramel eyes. This lady, who had caught her breaking and entering, had invited her into her home and had shown her nothing but kindness since then. Finally, the blonde nodded and lifted her shirt. 

\--

Regina fought a gasp at the sight, not just at the bloody gashes, but at the countless other scars on her torso. Cuts, bruises, and even what looked like old cigarette burns. She felt her stomach sink. What had this girl gone through? Still, Regina swallowed down her concern and grabbed the dishrag. 

"Well, something this deep will need stitches," she explained. "Do you want me to call your parents so that they can take you to the hospital?" she asked carefully, trying not to glance at the old scars.

Emma inhaled sharply at the suggestion, "No, it's okay. They don't even hurt I can just walk home really it's fine," she insisted, forcing on a smile that looks more like a grimace. 

Regina sighed and sat down beside the teenager, "Listen, Miss Swan, I need you to be honest with me." Emma pursed her lips and nodded. "You don't have to go into detail, but I need to know how you got these injuries. I just need to know how I am going to go about handling this," she explained cautiously.

Emma curled her visibly shaking hands into fists and sucked in a breath. There was a long moment of silence that suggested the teen wasn't going to answer. Then, finally, "My foster dad. He got angry last night over something I did, and he grabbed an empty gin bottle and smashed it against the wall before throwing it at me," she explained quietly. "He has gotten angry in the past, but," Emma swallowed and let out a shaky breath, "never this bad." 

The sick churning in her stomach increased at the words. Whatever warranted this much damage to be done to this young woman, this _girl_ had to be severe enough that her house was no longer safe. That being said, she couldn't just keep her here, the man will probably be sending out a search warrant for her return. But what other option did she have? The idea of putting her back in the same house as whatever bastard did this made her nauseous. 

"Emma, I am going to call my sister. She lives two hours away. She's a doctor, and she will get you stitched up here free of charge. That being said, I am going to need the full name of your foster father," she requested. 

The teenager gave her a confused look, "His name is Trevor Adams. But why do you need it?" She asked. 

"Because I want you to stay with me for a few days while I file a police report," she explained. Emma stood, her eyes wide with terror. She stumbled back away from Regina, landing on the wooden floor. 

"Please, Regina, You can't tell them. If you tell them they'll take me to a group home," she begged, "I can't go back there, it's horrible."

Regina sighed and walked over to kneel next to the girl. Careful not to touch her, she sat down on the wood floor and faced Emma, "I promise they won't take you away. But, I cannot allow you to return to Trevor's house."

"Why are you doing this for me?" Emma asked quietly, looking over at the woman.

Regina smiled slightly, resting her hand near the girl's own, "Because, I care."

Emma snorted, "You just met me."

The older woman just shrugs, "I know, why does that matter?"

The blonde stared at her for a moment before sighing, "Fine, where am I going to stay?"

Regina grinned and got to her feet, "Follow me." 


	2. Doctor's Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma explores the ranch with Regina, and in the process gets to know more about her past.  
> TRIGGER WARNING: NON-GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF STITCHES AND MENTIONS OF DEATH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying this story so far if you have any suggestions feel free to comment them! :)

The morning sun glided in through the curtains, blanketing the guest room in warm shades of yellow. The faint sound of birds, locusts, and cicadas chirping outside her window sounded like a symphony of bliss and safety. Yet, under the white comforter that felt more like a cloud than cotton, Emma couldn't help but feel like this was a trick. Some cruel mind game her imagination has conjured up only for her to jolt awake in that small room with the broken lock. Throughout her life, she has gotten used to being tricked and scammed. They told her that she was safe, she was loved, she was appreciated, she was, she was, she was. So, Emma _really_ doubted Regina was any different. Once the rancher got praises for exposing Trevor Adam, she would tire of the blonde and dump her on the front step of the group home the first chance she got. Not that Emma blamed her, teenagers suck. Especially teens with so much baggage, it could drive a psychiatrist to popping Lexapro's like candy. 

Still, Emma pushed aside these thoughts and sat up from the too comfortable bed. The gauze wrapped around her abdomen shifted against the tender wound. Wincing at the feeling, the blonde hauled herself to her feet and trudged over to her backpack. Choosing her least ratty outfit she had, Emma decided on a tank top and jeans. The tank top had a hole along the side where she tore off a tag, and the jeans were now two sizes too big. She had taken a shower yesterday, making her hair glossier than it had been in a year. Regina had three different equally expensive-looking shampoos that were all different scents of apple. She also had a cinnamon vanilla body wash that looked fancier than strictly necessary for a hygiene product. Not to mention that she had a walk-in shower that was big enough to fit her and three other people. How the hell did a family of ranchers get this rich? It was a thought that looped through the teen's mind as she walked out of the guest bedroom and into the hallway leading to the living room/kitchen area. The white walls were covered in paintings of horses and photos of people Emma didn't recognize. There was one, the most prominent photo on any of the walls, of Regina with what the blonde assumed to be her family. Alongside her was a tall grinning redhead, an older brunette woman with a pinched face, and, in Regina's arms, a little brown-haired boy who looked mid-laugh as he stared up at the rancher. 

Who was the little boy, perhaps a nephew or little brother? Yet, he was the spitting image of Regina, more so than either of the other women in the picture. So, her son perhaps? Emma shrugged to herself if it was important Regina would probably mention the kid at some point. As the teenager approached the kitchen, a wafting scent of pancakes and coffee filled her nose, causing her underfed stomach to growl impatiently. Regina was facing away from her, flipping pancakes on an electric griddle. 

"Holy shit that smells good," Emma moaned as she walked up behind the woman. 

Regina grinned and looked over her shoulder, "Has anyone ever told you that you cuss entirely too much?" she teased.

The blonde shrugged and leaned against the refrigerator, "Once or twice," she admitted before grinning, "In 9th grade, I got in trouble for calling William Shakespeare a 'pretentious cunt' in an essay."

Brunette threw back her head and laughed, "Somehow, I don't doubt that. Now, stop idling around and set the table," she ordered.

Emma saluted and hollered a quick, "Yes, Ma'am," before wandering off towards the table. After placing down the plates and forks, Emma settled down in one of the wooden chairs. Regina wandered over a few minutes later, a plate of ten pancakes and a carton of milk with her. 

"My sister, Zelena, should be here by one today," she said, setting the food down. 

Emma looked down at the food eagerly but hesitated, keeping her hands in her lap. Regina looked at her expectantly before smiling, "Well, go ahead; it won't eat itself," she encouraged. After muttering thanks, Emma grabbed a single pancake from the stack. Regina, who grabbed two, raised her brow curiously at the blonde. "That's all you're going to take?" she asked, placing a napkin on her lap. Emma bit her lip and followed suit before looking up at the woman.

She shrugged, "I wasn't sure if I was allowed to take any more than that. I didn't want to overstep," she explained.

Regina's warm eyes shone with something akin to concern as she spoke, "You can take whatever you want, Dear. You don't need to wait for my permission," she assured. 

Emma furrowed her brow, "I didn't know adults were capable of sharing their possessions," she said, a touch too bitter to be a joke.

Regina chuckled as she bit into her breakfast, "You will find, Miss Swan, that I am not like most adults," she replied. Emma grinned, somehow she knew the woman was right. The two ate in comfortable silence for the remainder of the meal. Emma consumed five pancakes in one sitting and two glasses of milk. The last time Emma had eaten pancakes was when she was ten, seven years ago. She had just been put into a new foster home, and her guardian was a kind old lady who loved to bake. She died a month later of a heart attack. Emma grimaced at the memory, turning the bite in her mouth to ash. 

Regina came to her rescue; however, by chuckling at her empty plate, "I think I was right to encourage you to eat more," she commented. 

Emma grinned sheepishly, wiping her mouth on the napkin in her lap, "Not many of my foster parents have been good cooks," she offered. "So, when I'm with someone who cares enough to feed me more than ramen and cereal, I take advantage of it." 

If Regina was troubled by the comment, she didn't show it. Instead, she took the plates and silverware from the table and dumped them in the sink, "We can deal with those at dinner. For now, I want to show you around the ranch," she said. The pair walked outside, feeling the warm breeze ruffling their hair. The two walked down the long driveway to a golf cart. Emma glanced over at Regina curiously as she got into the cart.

Regina noticed her stare and gestured for her to get in, "You don't honestly expect me to walk up and down this walkway to the barn, right?" 

Emma shrugged, "I suppose not," she agreed before climbing in, "Do you think I could drive us back to the house?" 

"Don't get too cocky, Dear," Regina replied, glancing over at her. Emma chuckled, inspecting the woman before her. She had red-rimmed aviators on, with a sleeveless Def Leppard band t-shirt on that was tucked into her black jeans. Emma put her around twenty-eight to thirty years old, though she had the potential to be younger. 

"So do you live here alone?" she asked after realizing she had been staring for just a beat too long to be considered normal. 

"If you are asking whether or not I am married, the answer is no, though my sister lives a couple of hours from here, so she comes to visit a lot," Regina explained. 

"Are you dating anyone?" Emma asked curiously, mind wandering to the boy in the photo. 

Regina laughed and looked over at the teen, "Trying to flirt with me, are you?" she teased.

Emma blushed and shook her head, "No! I was just wondering because you own such a big ranch if you had any help," she explained, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment.

The older woman grinned and bumped her shoulder lightly, "Hey, I was just kidding," she assured Emma, "and to answer your question, I have ranch hands to help me. A lot of them live in town so you might know them," she continued. 

"Hey, does Ruby Hood work her by any chance?" Emma asked. She remembered her friend mentioning getting a summer job at a ranch a few weeks ago. 

"Yes, she does. Ruby's a good worker," Regina chuckled, "Though I suspect she applied just to flirt with my other employees," she observed.

Emma laughed, "Yeah, that sounds like her, alright. I come by the diner whenever my foster father tells me to pick up dinner, and she's usually helping her granny." She recalled the first time meeting the spunky redhead. She had ordered two burgers, and instead of making the food like a good employee, the girl had spent the majority of her time flirting with Emma. Just before the waitress could ask her out, however, Granny had walked out, yelling at her to get back to work. 

"Who else works here?" She asked idly as Regina stopped the golf cart in front of a large warehouse-like building. The curly-haired brunette entered a code into the padlock and slid the large metal door open before leading her inside. Inside was a thin cement path the was sandwiched between pens of cows and goats. The cows mooed their greeting while the goats bleated, demanding food. 

"I do most of the work around here so only three other people work here, a young man named David Nolan, and two teens around your age, Belle French and Killian Jones," Regina grimaced at the last boy's name, "Try to stay away from Killian though, he's a creep," she advised. 

Emma nodded, "Noted, now tell me about this place," she said, stroking the head of a chubby goat that had been nudging her leg. He looked up at her and gently but his horns against her arm.

Regina smiled and stroked the muzzle of a cow before turning to the blonde, "This ranch mainly focuses on milk, cheese, and other dairy food production. This is just one of three buildings on this property. I also have a pasture for my horses and cows to wander around, I prefer to let my cows wander instead of being stuck inside a pen their entire lives," the two wandered out of the building and towards a row of pens made from chicken wire, "This is where I keep my chickens, I mainly have them for baking and cooking," she continued as she gestured to the four coops. The rest of the tour took Emma to the two other dairy buildings, a pasture full of more dairy cows, and finally the barn. The property was even more gorgeous up close; a large apple orchard sat atop of a hill that had a small creek running through it and into a river a couple of miles off. 

"You have already seen the barn, obviously," Emma huffed in response, though a small smile lifted her lips, "and after Zelena stitches, you up, I was wondering if you wanted to go for a ride. If my sister says it's safe, of course," she added. 

Emma furrowed her brows and scuffed her worn converse against the dirt, "I don't know how to ride a horse," she admitted quietly.

"That's fine; I'll teach you," Regina offered, "It isn't a very well known skill nowadays, but it's amazing once you get into it. I've been riding since I was six, my mother had insisted I know how," she recalled with a bittersweet smile. "She pushed me to be better and better until I was competing in competitions at the age of ten."

"Your mother let you ride alone at six?" Emma asked, surprised, "That's a bit young."

Regina's smile turned into a grimace, "She was a... difficult woman to deal with," she explained. Emma frowned at the vague answer but decided it was best not to push. The two drove to the house in relatively comfortable silence. The afternoon sun had beaten down on the golf cart, leaving the leather seats relatively near scorching to sit on. 

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "How are you not in pain right now? You're wearing shorts."

"You get used to it after a while, trust me." 

"So, what is your sister gonna do exactly?" 

"Inspect the damage, stitch you up, the usual." 

Emma tensed at the mention of stitches. Memories of the few times she was forced to go to the doctor's office flashed across her mind. The last time she had gone to the doctor's office was because of a fractured wrist. Her foster mother at the time had gotten angry with her and had shoved her down a set of wooden stairs. When the doctor asked her how she got the injury, Emma had just told the man she fell out of a tree. Hospitals meant shots and x-rays, probing nurses inspecting her like a dead animal. She felt her bitten down nails starting to dig into the seat so hard the leather creaked. 

Regina seemed to notice her discomfort because she slowed the golf cart and looked over at the teen, "Emma, is something wrong?" Emma clenched her jaw, her shoulders so tense they ached. She wanted to scream that yes, something was wrong. She had three jagged cuts on her side from being attacked with a broken bottle. Not only that, but she had been forced to flee from what was supposed to be a safe place in order to get away from the one man with absolute legal power over her. For years now, she had been exploited by adults, hurt by them, belittled by them, and for what? Scars that ran far deeper than any glass cut ever could. 

However, she didn't say any of that. Instead, she just shook her head and continued her drive. When they finally parked, a flame-haired woman was standing on the porch, suitcases resting against the wall. The two were polar opposites look wise, Zelena had wild bright curls and striking blue eyes. She was dressed in a forest colored trenchcoat with loose black dress pants and low cut heeled boots. Zelena squealed and rushed over, engulfing her sister in a hug. 

"Regina, it's been too long!" she cried, squeezing the life out of her sibling.

Regina huffed and pat her sister's shoulder, "It has been a month, Zelena."

"Exactly, far too long," she turned and inspected Emma, who was standing off to the side awkwardly, "Now, who is this?" she asked, smiling kindly.

"Uh, I'm Emma Swan," she greeted, feeling as if she were intruding on the two. 

Zelena grinned and thrust her hand forward. At first, Emma flinched away memories of hands flying at her, shooting through her mind. However, she recovered and quickly shook the woman's hand, hoping she wouldn't notice how clammy they were. Zelena seemed unfazed by this reaction, her smile remaining just as bright as before.

"It is fantastic to meet you, I'm Zelena, this ones," she gestured to Regina, "old sister. Now let's go inside, it's hot as hell out here." And, with that, Zelena marched off into the house. Regina huffed and grabbed the woman's suitcases before following her inside.

Once the three- well two, Emma was still stiff as a board -were comfortably sitting on the couch, Zelena pulled out a large black bag and proceeded to pull out many medical supplies. Her head swam as the cold metal tools were set on the coffee table. Zelena was explaining something, probably the procedure; however, Emma couldn't quite grasp the words. Everything was muffled and far away. Her hands were clenched so tight she felt her palms starting to bleed and cramp. Sweat pooled on her forehead, and her head began to pulse. It was only when she looked up from her lap did she realize the doctor had asked her a question.

She cleared her too-tight throat. "Um, sorry, can you repeat that?" 

Zelena mercifully didn't comment on her blatant nerves, "That's alright. I was asking if you could take off your shirt." 

Emma's heart sped up at the request, "My... My shirt?" she squeaked.

The doctor chuckled lightly, "I can't stitch you up if you still have a shirt on." 

Emma felt her cheeks and ears heat up, "Oh... right, of course." She quickly took off her tank top, willing herself not to cover her scarred abdomen. The room felt too warm against her skin as Zelena reached out to unwrap her side. Emma glanced over to Regina, who was looking at her torso with a look that appeared to be something akin to sorrow. 

"Okay, now I'm going to numb your side, so you won't even notice the stitches going in," Zelena explained, pulling out a vial. 

"Can.," Emma cleared her throat, "Is there any way we can avoid stitches?" she asked in an embarrassingly unsteady voice. 

Zelena sighed and offered her a sympathetic smile, "I wish there were, it would make my job a hell of a lot easier."

The three sat in silence as Zelena rubbed the numbing gel over her wound. Emma fought the urge to look down as the doctor cleaned the cuts and grabbed the stitching tools. Instead, she looked over to Regina. The brunette offered her an encouraging smile. Minutes ticked by so slowly they might as well have been eons as Emma's patience started to run low. Curiosity and fear won out in the end as the blonde glanced down, tears glazed over her eyes, and her throat closed up at the sight. She hadn't even gotten past the second stitch yet. Panic wracked her chest as she started to shake, unable to tear her eyes from the sight. 

"Love, I need you to keep still," Zelena said in a gentle tone. 

"I... I want to stop now. The wound isn't that bad I don't need stitches," she insisted, voice coming out in short gasps. She was about to yank away from the doctor when a soft hand grasped her chin. She allowed her head to be turned, facing Regina Mills. The rancher's mocha eyes were almost molten gold in the light of the sun. 

"We all know that skipping stitches isn't an option, Honey," she said in a voice that was so maternal Emma felt a sob build up in her throat. The hand grasping her chin slowly stroked loose curls behind her ear, and despite every instinct screaming at her to pull away, Emma leaned closer. Regina continued to stroke her hair until she was practically on the woman's lap. She didn't seem to mind, merely pulling Emma closer so that her back met the older woman's front. The blonde let out a sigh at the first gesture of affection anyone had offered her in a long time. Those slender fingers continued combing through her thick tresses, allowing her mind to slip into a blissful state. She vaguely registered Zelena shifting closer, probably to resume her work. All the while, Regina whispered soft words of encouragement until exhaustion overtook her, and she slipped into slumber. 

\--

Regina carefully set the girl on the couch, covering her now bandaged torso with a blanket. After the teenager had fallen asleep, the stitching process had been a breeze.

"Poor dear," Zelena tutted as she put away her supplies. "How did you come across her in the first place?" 

"I found her in my barn sleeping, and when I asked her what happened, she told me her foster father attacked her," Regina explained, setting a kettle on the stove. 

"That explains the scars on her abdomen. The thing that worries me though is some of those scars look old."

Regina's heart sunk, "How old?"

"From five to ten years."

"Jesus Christ, what am I going to do?" Regina sunk into a chair, hands carding through her hair.

"Well, you could let her stay with you..."

"Zelena, don't we've had this talk before." 

"This isn't just about you being lonely, Reggie. I saw the way you looked at her when she started to panic. It was exactly how you used to look at Henr-"

Regina slammed her palm on the counter, "That is enough." 

Zelena frowned, "You know I'm right, Regina. I have tried everything to help you to let you grieve. But, that girl in there needs you just as much as you need her."

"You can't rush my grief. That isn't how it works."

"This isn't me trying to rush you, nor is it me trying to replace Henry. This is me trying to make you realize that it is okay to live and that you shouldn't punish yourself because of his passing."

"I am not punishing myself," Regina snapped. 

"Yes, you are, Reggie. You barely leave the ranch anymore, every time I come to visit you are always throwing yourself into your work. I can't even imagine what losing your son was like, but he wouldn't want you to live like this." 

Regina stayed silent, staring at the kitchen table as tears gathered in her eyes. The gnawing ache in her chest proceeded to chew a hole in her heart as it had for the past year. A cold empty cavern had replaced the space between her lungs, leaving her freezing. "How do I stop?" she asked quietly, looking up at her sister.

Zelena pulled the shorter woman closer and tucked her away in her chest, "Allow yourself to open up to people again. You may not realize it but that kid out there gave me the exact same look you gave me that day at the funeral. She is hurting and needs someone who knows what it is like to lose. To show her that this isn't permanent." Regina burrowed her face further into Zelena's shirt. 


End file.
